Don't Walk Behind Me
by Seducing Reason
Summary: The Lone Wanderer defies fate, and is left more certain about who she is and where she's going. She just hopes she no longer has to go it alone. Fawkes/F!LW, written for falloutkinkmeme.


It wasn't meant to be.

She knew that. She did enough of destiny-defying, and destiny-defining that she knew exactly how much it wasn't meant to be, knew all of the rules it went against. She knew the difference between the two choices. Turning on the purifier at Project Purity, intending to lay down her life so her father's work would survive; that was her destiny. Living after such an event? That was defying destiny. You didn't defy destiny without knowing there would be consequences, things that would ruin the fabric of fate.

But there it was between them, unspoken and trampled underfoot. She didn't mean for it to happen. It had never been in the cards. You don't break destiny, you don't change fate. So as he kept his eyes turned away from her face, hers bore into his, willing him to speak. She was a woman who always initiated conversation, a woman of action, of purpose. Yet she stood silent, the wasteland's sun baking them slowly, for all the world looking like a western showdown at high noon. The subject of destiny had returned to her once again, and this time, it wasn't just hers at stake.

She hadn't been meant to live after Project Purity. She hadn't meant to try. Even going in, she knew that was where it would all end. The first time she'd set foot into the Jefferson Memorial, she knew it was there, in that place, she would die. Of course at that time she was certain Super-Mutants would be the reason. Later, she was sure the Enclave would do her in. Instead, she'd been given a chance at a hero's death; she would join her mother and her father, wouldn't have to face anymore trials, wouldn't have to risk failing anyone, or lose anyone else.

After she fell in the purifier, she swam in memories, listlessly, without a body, her mind an unfocused wreck. She thought a lot about her friends, the companions she had gathered in her travels, about her family and the vault. Hoped they would be alright without her, hoped they wouldn't blame her. But mostly, hoped that she wouldn't wake up. Was tired of being set apart from the people who meant the most to her, wanted to finally meet her mother. She was finally at peace, finally ready to let it all go, sure that nothing was waiting for her on an earthly plane.

When she woke to several concerned faces and more requests from Lyons, she felt angry. Maybe it wasn't fair, because she only had herself to blame that they ended up depending on her for help, because she'd bent over backward and then some to ensure things got done the way she was sure her father would have wanted. Now they expected her to help them, as if she hadn't done enough, wasn't tired of killing and trekking. What the Hell was wrong with these people? Couldn't they do anything themselves? No, she would have to do it. Their hands were tied, as usual.

In the wasteland, she'd been likened to a saint because of all the good things that she had done for people. She had accepted that she would die a hero, hoping her short-lived legend would inspire the hardened people of the wasteland into action, that they would thrive in a land where water was no longer a problem. She'd done all that was humanly possible to make her father proud, even when she would have rather just ignored the problems that should never have fallen to a fresh-faced kid from a vault. Goddamn, if she died, they better damn-well appreciate it.

Okay, okay, so she wasn't really as selfless as Three Dog made her out to be. She did good things for people because it was the right thing to do; that was how her father raised her. She did them for him, for her mother smiling down on her from Heaven. She had known she was going to die, and had wanted to make sure she joined them. Knew that she wouldn't last long in the wastes. Knew she was going to go out with a bang, needing no one, and having no one.

It was her destiny. Or so she had thought.

Fawkes had told her that he felt it was his destiny to accompany her. She had told him that he probably wouldn't live long if he stayed, but he had insisted. He felt he still owed her for his release from his prison in vault 87. She told him no one owed her anything, told him that she was certain she wouldn't last as long as he would. At the time, she'd felt both touched by his gesture, and grateful for his company, but she knew what was in store for her, had the sinking feeling her death was waiting just around the corner. She tried not to get too attached to him, or any of her friends. Hadn't wanted people to get too attached to her, either.

But it hadn't worked at all. Out of all the people and creatures she'd met in the wastes, he was the one she liked the most, the one she didn't want to be without. Star Paladin Cross had been like family, a part of her father that had kept her sane, and on the straight and narrow. Butch had become like a wayward asshole brother, but she had loved him nonetheless, despite his words suddenly becoming less than brotherly once he left the vault. Charon, the silent bodyguard uncle, the insane slave Clover as a cousin and the ex-raider Jericho as the bastard grandfather... all of them had cut out a piece of her heart, despite their flaws. She found herself loving them.

But Fawkes she had been the most attached to. More than any friend, and recently, more than any man. She hadn't meant to fall in love with him. It was inescapable, though. He was reserved, friendly, intelligent and careful. He had been everything she'd ever wanted in her dream man, the one she'd given up hoping for when she resigned first to living in the vault, and then later when she knew she would be dying for her father's cause.

In love with a super-mutant. It wasn't heard of, they weren't even people, Cross had told her. They were creatures, vile, dumb monsters that dragged people off to Hell. He was a mutation of a mutation, and he may have been her friend, but it was all he would ever be. Cross had told her this again and again.

Maybe so, but it didn't change the way she felt. With the exception of Butch, the bully who now spent his time drinking at the Muddy Rudder, no one could really relate to the shock she had felt at seeing the wastes for the first time, or had spent their entire lives in the captivity of a vault. Butch hadn't been set apart from the other vault residents, she had. The older vault dwellers had known she and her father weren't born in the vault, and it had rubbed off on their children, keeping her isolated, her only friend being Amata, who had personally told her she couldn't return. Her own best friend had told her she was no longer welcome in her own home, that they didn't want her.

Fawkes could relate, though admittedly, he'd had it worse. His own brothers thought of him as a freak, keeping him locked away. Nor had he been welcomed in the settlements they traveled to. She'd gotten into a fistfight with a Brotherhood Initiate at the Citadel when he made some remark about the gentle giant, with her rearranging that asshole's face. He was her friend, one of the few she'd ever had in her whole life, and she couldn't let anyone think they could talk about him like that.

She sighed as she rested the assault rifle on the ground, sitting next to it, trying to diffuse the tension. It was a raider's. She didn't use them anymore, because she was very fond of the plasma weapons the Enclave had all but _given_ to her, but she collected the guns from raiders whenever she felled them. If she didn't, other raiders would loot their friends' corpses, and she was making it a personal mission to disarm the chem-addled idiots. Not that it really helped, but if they had to go buy weapons to stock up, then at least they were going to help someone's economy. Or they'd just steal 'em. But she could at least say she tried.

She breathed his name softly, willing him to look at her. He'd been silent too long. They both had.

It had been in Megaton she realized it. The whole love thing, that is. She'd come out of her house, having left him to wait at the outside table while she went to grab something. She didn't remember what, probably water from Wadsworth. But she had stopped in her door frame, entranced, as he sat in the tiny chair. Maggie, Billy Creel's charge, was shifting from foot to foot, curiously eying her friend with poorly concealed interest.

The child was struggling with Billy's demand that she never talk to strangers, no matter how friendly they seemed, and sating her curiosity. Curiosity won. But the words she spoke made the woman known only as the Lone Wanderer cringe, her gut twisting.

"Are you a monster?" Such an innocent, perfectly blunt question that any child might ask. But she knew his self-doubts, understood a little of what he struggled with. He was not human, those human touches had been stolen from him.

But his answer surprised the Wanderer, freezing her in place. He chuckled at the little girl, and there was no bitterness or anger in it, but his words were a little stiff, like he was afraid of the child. "I prefer 'meta-human', myself. What is your name, little one?"

Maggie looked guilty. "I'm not supposed to talk to strangers."

"Then let us not be strange. I am Fawkes. My friend lives in this house. I assume she is your friend too?" His gruff, but emotional voice was amused, if cautious, and if he could have smiled, he would have, she knew. His words always came out slowly, each one carefully considered and guarded preciously.

Maggie nodded emphatically.

"The friend of my friend is my friend." He said solemnly. The interaction was not an easy one for him, as he didn't want to scare her away. He didn't realize that it was actually harder to scare children away then it was adults when they were interested in you, but she didn't blame him.

Maggie giggle. "You talk funny. I'm Maggie. You must be pretty smart, huh?"

"As smart as I can be." He replied, not sure what to think of the compliment.

"You're really big." She commented sagely.

"You're very small." He said with a tilt of his head, as he was seated and she still didn't come up to his chest. Her reaction was instantaneous, making the Wanderer grin widely.

"I'm a kid! I won't be small forever! Some day I'll be bigger." She said warningly, scrunching up her face. "Weren't you ever a kid?"

"Yes, but I do not remember it."

"Why not?" She demanded, confused.

"It was a very long time ago." He answered vaguely. A little girl did not need to know the horrors that came with mutation, with any luck they would be wiped out before she was old enough to know, a distant nightmare people would use to keep their children in line.

"How long?" She continued, not to be deterred.

"Probably more than a hundred years." He conceded, not sure himself. He had stopped counting the days he was kept in isolation, but he had known many years had passed, had known he'd been an original vault resident, and that would make him old indeed.

The little girl was stunned, jaw dropping comically. "Wow, you're really old!"

"No, you are just very young. Some day it won't seem so long."

Maggie crossed her arms skeptically. "If you're so old why are you traveling with the lady from vault 101? Don't you have friends your own age?" This was the reasoning of Billy Creel, speaking through his ward. How many times had Billy told Maggie to play with Harden because he was about her age? Such a small thing, but suddenly so important.

"Age does not determine who your friends are."

"Oh." She seemed to consider that. "Will you be my friend too then?"

"I don't see why not." He muttered, eyes turning upward as he considered.

Maggie smiled and threw her arms around his massive neck, having to jump her highest to do it. A startled Fawkes was frozen for a moment, but slowly wrapped one awkward arm around the little girl, giving her a brief return of her hug as best he could. It was probably the first show of physical affection shown him since his memory permitted.

It had made the Wanderer smile, cherishing the moment as though she had any right to.

She knew she probably wouldn't live to have children. She knew she couldn't have them anyway; the radiation of the purifier had seen to that. In all likelihood, she would turn into a ghoul, given time. It would have been a distressing thought if the man she loved was a human, or was someone like Butch, or was one of the noble paladins from the Citadel. If she had returned to the Vault, and tried to settle in there, she wouldn't have been welcomed without a womb, let alone being a ghoul. Procreation is your civic duty, after all.

Seeing Fawkes with Maggie had stayed with her, casting a different light on her friend. It brought a few things out that hadn't been on her mind before, and after the purifier? Well, it was on the forefront of all her thoughts. She lived. She hadn't meant to, but there it was. She was alive, and she was in love. She hadn't meant for that to happen either, not with Fawkes, the only creature in the world who couldn't return her affections.

Maybe she couldn't have children, and maybe there was nothing left for her since her father's dream had been fully realized. But... with Fawkes around, it no longer felt like her life was over, she didn't have to play by the rules anymore. There wasn't something looming over her, demanding she give her life like a hero; she _had_ given her life as a hero. The rest of the world be damned, she was in love with a damn super-mutant and even if they could never share anything, a child or an intimate moment, she would love him.

Without the purifier to tend, she had nothing. She couldn't live without a cause, she was no existentialist that could live knowing she had no meaning anymore. Fawkes... he was no Prince Charming. But out of everyone in the entire Capital Wasteland, out of all the men, out of all the friends? He was the only one who had her heart quickening, and if life had no purpose? Well then she'd take a chance. The time had come, standing there under that sun, his eyes cast down, avoiding her features.

He knew what she was going to say before she said it, it seemed.

"I...I love you, Fawkes." She tried not to let the piteous emotions she felt come into her voice. Her heart was racing. She shouldn't have told him, should have kept it to herself. But there was nothing, nothing at all left for her. She had to know if he could...feel the same way. Or anything at all.

His shoulders sagged, and he rested the Gatling laser on the ground, a rumble coming from his chest that was something like a sigh. His face never changed, not that it ever did.

"I love you too, my friend." He moved to pat her on the shoulder, as a brother might. She cringed and a look flickered across his face.

She grabbed his heavy hand, twice the size of hers. He may have towered over her by three feet, but he was held in place by that touch. The sun burned her, hanging low overhead.

"Fawkes, I didn't mean like a friend." She said slowly, searching him for any sign, anything at all. She took in a shuddering breath and gripped his hand, the leathery tension in his meaty digits intensifying. She didn't let go.

"My friend, please..." He voice was strained. All the emotion he couldn't express in his face came out in his voice. In that respect he could never hide from her. "Do not do this to yourself."

Her hand tightened on his in a way that would have been painful to a human.

"Don't tell me that." She hissed, her eyes hard, but open to him. He would be able to see everything in her eyes. All the pain, all the doubts, all the shoved aside feelings... they were there for his inspection. "Fawkes, please, if you feel anything for me, please don't say that."

He looked into her face, his gaze heavy, somber.

"What would you have me say?"

"Nothing about destiny, please." She breathed uneasily. Her heart on her sleeve, the sun in her eyes, she stepped closer to him, using him to block out that burning orb. "I think I've had about enough of that crap."

A genuine laugh escaped him, but it was short lived, and the severity returned in full force. "Fair enough."

Her chest heaved as she waited, but he had nothing to say. She didn't know why she was breathing so hard, hadn't known when she started. Maybe to keep from crying. Oh no, there would be none of that weakling shit. She all but come to terms with him not feeling the same as she did. She just didn't want to hear that it meant the end of their adventures together.

Wasn't sure she could handle that.

Finally, he had something to say. "What is our friendship to you?"

That had her taken aback. What on Earth did he mean by that? "It's everything to me. I hope this wouldn't make you question that. I... I know you might not be able to return my feelings, Fawkes. I'm intelligent enough for that. I just needed to tell you, I guess. Human needs, and all."

She tried to be flippant, but it didn't work. She eased her grip on his hand, intending to let him go so he wouldn't feel trapped by her, metaphorically, of course. He could rip her arm off if had wanted to. She was slightly surprised to feel that he, in turn, didn't let her go. His heavy hand stayed on her shoulder. It wasn't a touch that said anything, but it was there, light and steady, almost not touching her at all.

"I believe friendship is a single soul dwelling in two bodies. Aristotle said something to that effect once. I believe I understand why you might have..." He faltered, shaking his head slightly. "But I am not human, my friend. Even if I... felt the same way, there is nothing I can give you. Not children, not a home. Aren't those the things that women desire in a mate?"

Her breath caught in her throat, her lips dry. There was something about the way he said it, something in that voice... "You've considered this before."

Did that mean... did he? She stared at him blankly, forcing her mind not to think anything, so she couldn't be disappointed. And so she wouldn't jinx it, if she was honest with herself.

He didn't respond for a few moments. She stepped forward and boldly set her hand on his massive chest. He never stopped her, but for a moment he didn't breathe. Neither did she. They stood frozen, looking at each other with no sounds even distantly around them. If you wanted to feel cut off from the world, standing in the open wasteland was a good way to do it.

"I've considered it. Not prudent on my part." He said simply, eyes sliding away. He removed his hand slowly from her shoulder in retreat. She didn't move her own hand.

"I'm not a woman who settles for the simple things, Fawkes. I'm a little insulted you'd think me so. If I had wanted a white picket fence with all the trimmings, I would have gotten exactly that."

"I can't give you the things you seek. I can't even smile properly at you."

But he had already given her the encouragement she needed. She didn't care if it wasn't right, or if it made her a freak. She didn't care that she'd probably never have children of her own, even if it had been what she wanted when she was younger. She didn't care, as long as she could be with the one person who made her heart pound as it was doing now.

She felt corny and cliché, and more than a little sappy. Well, fuck it. She did. And she didn't give a shit about that either. If this is what those grating songs and cheesy romance novels were about, she'd happily throw in her lot with them forever if it just meant for once, she wouldn't just be expected to give up her happiness for someone else, and could share it with someone instead of walking this life alone.

The skin under her hands was rough,and even though she could trace sinewy muscles and bold veins, she could understand why Fawkes didn't need armor. There was very little this skin could not withstand. Coupled with the fact that his brothers had beaten and tortured him every day during his captivity, he was tougher then even they were.

Her hand was so small against him. She wasn't a small woman, by any means. Rather average in every respect, actually. But standing next to him made her feel tiny. It was hard not to back down, and the insanity of what she was doing screamed at her from every mouth of everyone she'd ever known. Well, you had to be crazy to do the things she'd done. You don't single-handedly take on the Enclave if you're sane.

Her other hand joined the first one, and she ran them along the wide expanse of his chest, and was moving to his meaty arms when spoke, jarring her out of her awe. She wasn't expecting it and jumped almost out of her skin.

"Stop, please. You don't know what you're asking. You've seen how I become when I... am in combat. I'm afraid I wont be able to hold to myself."

"Love isn't combat." She glared at him, trying to squash her bruised ego. "We've had so much taken from us, Fawkes, we strive harder than anyone alive to give even when we've had everything stolen... Please, just trust me. Have I ever given you reason not to?"

The look in his face, what little expression he could manage, changed. He wasn't a guarded being, though he tried to be. He was as temperamental as his brothers, given the chance, but he had so much more to him then they ever could, more than the many men she'd encountered her whole life did. The look on his face made her break into a genuine smile, something bright and infectious, breaking her previous mood. He had that effect on her.

She reached up and kissed the corner of his mouth. She didn't want to embarrass him by trying anything that would make him feel inadequate, but she also wasn't doing anything she didn't think he couldn't handle. It was not entirely one-sided; he had to lean down for her to do it. Not only was he aware of her intentions, he was accepting, if not encouraging them.

In many ways, he was as naïve as a child. In others, he was more jaded and wiser than any lucid old man could ever be. She didn't want to think that this... her kissing, her now obvious intentions, were completely foreign to him. He had to know what she was after, at this point.

His massive arms were pushing her back, hands locking around her almost painfully as he tried to squash whatever it was slowly manifesting in his eyes. His very human eyes.

She looked at him, not sure what else to say or do to get him to feel the same way. She wasn't sure how she should take this rejection. That was always her luck, though, wasn't it? Forever learning to stay disconnected, but useful. Like the sun. Always there to provide what was needed, never able to receive in return. She felt a bead of sweat drop down her shoulder blades in response.

He surprised her by pulling her close, briefly lifting her off her feet as he moved. She looked up at him, bewildered for a moment. He had moved her to the shady side of the outcropping that they had been standing next to, the sun passing over. It had been hot, but she hadn't been paying attention to the heat. Fawkes had, apparently, and had put them in a more intimate position by removing them from the glare of the sun.

She found herself standing on a rock, looking up at him, but closer to his face than she had been before. He sighed and released her arms slowly, but did not back up. He leaned his forehead to touch hers.

"This isn't the right place for this." He said finally, slightly defeated, or maybe in awe. It was hard to tell, maybe both.

"I didn't realize there was a 'right' place for this."

"I can't give you children. I will very probably outlive you, given your current pace of life. Most towns still try to shoot me on sight when you're not around. And... there is always the chance that I'll... hurt you. That I might... forget myself, and hurt you."

"Please, Fawkes." She thought she sounded like she might be on the verge of whining. She was being selfish, maybe, but she didn't think it was wrong, not if he had actually wanted to... explore this, himself. "Please, Fawkes... please."

"Yes, my friend. Is there really anything else I could ever say to you?" He traced a giant index finger along her cheek.

She kissed his chin, realizing the fight in him had died at some point as they had talked. Her hand went for one of his, bringing it forward. She kissed his knuckles, closing her eyes when he opened his hand to cup her face. When she opened her eyes to see him watching her with a strangely blank look, she locked eyes with him, slowly taking in one of his large fingers into her mouth, so that if he didn't get where she was hoping this would go, he wouldn't be able to deny it now.

A struggled groan was all he could mutter. But he didn't stop her. Her hands were pushing at his chest again, fingers sliding under the tears in his clothes, but he didn't stop her then, either. His own hands stayed where ever she would land them, and with a few deft movements, not giving enough of a damn about the time or the place, she was topless, moving one of his hands over her chest below her throat, right above her breasts, not wanting to do all the work for him, but wanting to nudge him in the right direction.

And the right direction he was nudged. Maybe it was left over from being a healthy male human at some point, but his hand dropped of it's own accord to her breast, the touch not quite as gentle as his previous ones.

She stifled a moan and felt her lower body start to jerk subtly, as though it knew before she did she needed to prepare. His hand was so large he was actually grabbing most of her side as he gently palmed her breast. When he noticed this, he stopped, maybe a little discouraged. But the Lone Wanderer couldn't be discouraged. She grabbed his hand, pulling it to her stomach, and reached, rather boldly, toward his waist, one hand moving slowly.

She wasn't bold enough to let her hand just go for his crotch, though. She was a brave woman, not stupid. She was eager, but he was still moving like she wasn't real, like he would back down at any moment. So her hand rubbed along the waistband of his vault suit. Just warm, and inquisitive. There was a light to her eyes, one that most men dream about, but Fawkes couldn't bring himself to just paw at her.

It wasn't for a gentlemanly reason, either, as much as she was sure he would have liked. He was almost petrified by her, by his body's reaction to that hovering hand. He was scared, and she could see it.

His hand finally shot back and grabbed her wrist, his eyes closed, his head tilted back. She looked at him, and he slowly opened his eyes at her, then, while keeping his eyes on hers, moved her hand lower, until she opened her mouth in silent awe and the sheer size of what she felt, cradled in her hand. In reality? Only a horse could claim what Fawkes could.

He was warning her, wordlessly. But by what she touched, she knew he wanted her. And that it would not be a quiet experience, it might not even been as pleasant as one could hope for.

And you know what? She didn't give a damn.

She moved to place a kiss on his chest, and knelt before him, her hands going in to reach for that massive size. And she still wasn't prepared.

She touched him reverently, lovingly. Her knees hurt in the ground, the thin fabric of her jeans not quite enough protection from the rocks and chips trying to tear into her. She found distraction in trembling hands working toward the goal of removing his pants, one of his own hands hovering near her as if to stop her, when he sprang free. She was surprised he hadn't ripped his suit as he became hard. He was... fucking massive.

She locked eyes with him as she held his member. He felt warm and alive, not like a freak of nature, or even a mutant. To her, he was a man. She thought he might have seen it in her eyes, because there was something oddly relieved in his eyes, and then, of course, grateful, as she licked her way along his exposed head, kissing and teasing him, taking him into her mouth. She didn't take much in, sadly. Far too large.

She didn't want to spook him, so she only worked tenderly, doing her best to watch his face, which had a sudden blank look over it. It was one thing to be hard after eons of disuse, it was another thing to get some use out of it. The low rumble that came from his chest was pained, primal. His eyes were becoming frantic.

Oh no, she wasn't going to lose him. Not after that long, loving set-up. She pulled back, taking the hand closest to her chest and used her hand to push his under her shirt, which was some worthless, dirty tank-tee anyway. She hadn't been wearing a bra, the damn thing was too uncomfortable when she had rifles on her back all day, and she silently praised the powers that be that it wasn't with her now. She hoisted the tee over her head, but kept Fawkes' giant hand where she'd stopped it.

He locked eyes with her once again, and he didn't seem to have a doubt anymore. He was already moving to have her stand to he could push her jeans off, pushing them along her legs a little too hard, but she didn't dare say a word. She barely had enough time to kick the damn things off, grateful the underwear went with them, before Fawkes was lifting her, hands around her ribs, pulling her up to his chest, their heads level enough to where she was able to land a kiss or two on his face.

One of his massive arms went under her ass to cradle her body, the other hand pushing her back toward him. All he could utter was, "This is utterly foolish," before landing his own back against the outcropping she'd used for shade earlier. She felt something wonderful demanding attention between her legs, felt something of his rising to meet it, and her excitement for the inevitable synthesis of the two of them? Beyond wild.

He dropped her down, allowing her to ease onto him.

Gravity-wise, this was the easiest thing for him to do. It was also the most intimate, because she could look into his eyes. She had to crawl to encase him, and almost bit her tongue off as she eased down, trying not to scream in blood-curdling agony. Even the pain was erotic, however. She thought that it had to be similar to giving birth at first, but then, after a few more painful seconds, glory. Unbelievable glory.

His face, for all the permanent grimace, still had a the sense of ecstasy she felt. And she was loud. She was sure the raiders within a hundred miles could hear her, but she didn't care. Her eyes never left his face as she yelped and crooned, egging him on. Even standing, he still was still going deeper inside her than any man could have ever dreamed of doing, but every thrust was controlled by her. His own bucking was slow, and gentle. He had kept his mind after all, for there was no other way he could do it.

Frankly, she was amazed he was able to keep himself together in such a state. He groaned, her weight nothing for him to hold, even for hours on end. They stayed like that for some time, and she found herself worrying her lip, even as she tried to fight off an orgasm. He was so perfectly in control of himself, she was worried he wouldn't let himself go, worried he wasn't enjoying himself. Or worried that he was worried, for whatever reason.

Still, she couldn't deny it forever, that massive beast sliding along her insides, her body bent in ways women only dreamed they could achieve. It was too much to try and keep thinking, her mind went primal, and she came, her cunt tightening around him in waves that felt like a workout in and of itself.

It was beyond wonderful, so fulfilling, so right. There was no one she'd wanted to make love to more in her whole life, and doubted she ever would. No matter how long or short it was going to be.

She breathed his name and looked into his eyes, and his control was shattered. The force of his hips bucking into hers, even as he held her up, was intense enough she thought she might walk away with a broken pelvis. His short yell was just exactly like any super-mutant's battle cry, and it reverberated down her spine, tingling along her insides as another orgasm took her for it. His own climax was as violent as it felt for her, and his arm tightened around her body. She screamed in pain he crushed her to his chest, knocking the wind from her and bruising her ribs, but really not harming her as badly as he could have.

When he was done, he blinked into her face and she gave him a smile and weak laugh. He lowered himself with her still in his arms as he slid his back along the rock, probably uncomfortably, if nothing else, with both panting heavily. Exhausted, but happy. Not dead. No lightening bolts to strike them down. Nothing but bliss.

She didn't just yank herself off him. She waited for him to go soft, with her head against his chest as she sighed, listening to a strong and steady heartbeat. She felt his entire body as he spoke, and it rippled through her, naked as the day she was born and int the middle of the wastes, happier than she'd ever been.

"Incredible." Was all he managed.

"Okay. So no more telling me no then, right?" She asked breathlessly.

With a rumble as he laughed, her heart sang at his response.

"Agreed."


End file.
